Hermione Pulls It off
by Shiv5468
Summary: Hermione takes on a bet to seduce Severus. But she has a plan - a very cunning plan. Sometimes brains are more important than bust size
1. Default Chapter

Hermione pulls it off  
  
Chapter One  
  
It was the Graduation Ball and Hermine was watching the clock hand get ever closer to midnight. Ten seconds - nine - eight - seven - six - five - four - three - two - one. Now she was no longer a student at Hogwarts and entirely free to do as she wanted, and she knew what she wanted.  
  
She stood up to cross the hall to find her prey, nervously smoothing her dress over her hips. Snape wasn't difficult to find, largely because she had been watching him all night. He had sat at the teacher's table all evening, with the same faint sneer on his face, and danced with no one.  
  
She was aware that the eyes of Gryffindor house had been on her all night, waiting for her to make her move. They had been disappointed.  
  
As she covered the last few yards she was aware that Snape was watching her every move. Undaunted she stood before him and asked him to dance.  
  
His eyes flickered to the clock and then back to her again. "Miss Granger, I expected to see you a little earlier in the evening. The time limit on the bet was midnight I believe?"  
  
"Indeed, Professor," she returned composedly. "And that really is rather the point, don't you agree?"  
  
He looked at her appraisingly for a moment. "I take your point. If you had approached me any earlier I would of course have declined your . offer. However, under the circumstances I think a dance would be acceptable. Perhaps, during the course of it, you can supply me with the finer details of this last weeks events."  
  
It wasn't an enthusiastic response but at least he was sufficiently intrigued to dance with her. She had successfully negotiated the first hurdle, now for the rest. Five minutes to persuade him to give her a chance.  
  
Her hand was clasped in his as they took up their position on the dancing floor. She valiantly resisted the temptation to move closer to him, and maintained a very proper distance but she couldn't restrain the shiver that went through her when his hand settled on her waist.  
  
"Relax, Miss Granger, I don't bite."  
  
"Not even if I ask you very nicely," she retorted.  
  
Ah, another question answered for him. She had delayed her plan, but not abandoned it. A little encouragement might be in order, but not too much.  
  
"Perhaps, but only if you ask very nicely." The tone was laden with meaning.  
  
Another shiver. "You don't play fair, do you?"  
  
"No, Miss Granger, I do not. I do hope you didn't expect me to do so."  
  
He was rewarded with a glorious smile that made her look almost beautiful. "Not at all, Professor. I would be very disappointed if you did. Where would be the challenge in that?"  
  
They danced together in a peculiarly contented silence for a while. Hermione began to believe that she might be able to pull this off after all.  
  
"So," he said, "I believe that the deal was that you were going to tell me all about the events of last week."  
  
"That's a very broad brief, Professor. Why don't you tell me what you know, and I'll fill in the details."  
  
"Let me see, it would be last Friday night, that your fellow Gryffindors decided to celebrate the end of exams by sneaking in alcohol from Hogsmeade. A venerable tradition followed by all Houses, every year since Hogwarts began, I suspect."  
  
"So the teacher's turn a blind eye to it?"  
  
"Certainly not. It wouldn't be as much fun for the students if they thought it was sanctioned, would it? However, matters progressed as usual whenever a group of boys are gathered together and the situation descended into each of the boys boasting about their . romantic . conquests. Although I would be surprised if the term romance can be applied to a series of fumbling encounters on the Astronomy Tower or, for the more sporty student, the Quidditch Pitch. I do wonder how these things are organised. Do you think they have a rota, or is it first . come, first . served?"  
  
They executed a showy turn before he continued, "I fail to see how this resulted in you announcing to the whole of Gryffindor House that you had a crush on me."  
  
"Hardly the whole of Gryffindor House," she replied.  
  
"Ron Weasley was there. It amounts to the same thing. He is a bigger gossip than Molly was, and believe me that is saying something."  
  
She conceded the point with a rueful shrug. "Well, it moved on from the usual boasting to taking bets as to who they could get into bed. The terms were that they had to seduce the partner of their choice by the end of the term, which was stated to be midnight at the graduation ball."  
  
"Doubtless it was at this point you pointed out to them how immature they were being."  
  
"Yes. Of course they said that I was being a spoilsport and that just because I couldn't get a boyfriend there was no need for me to stop them having their fun. After all, who would want to go out with the Gryffindor know-it-all. It made me very cross."  
  
"I can imagine. Teenaged boys have very odd ideas. Girls only have breasts and no brains. Therefore if someone has brains it seems to be only logical to them that they therefore can't have breasts. The faulty premise and logical fallacy that is built open usually only becomes apparent some four years into marriage, when they realise that the blond sweetheart they married has turned into a harridan.  
  
"I, on the other hand, have always appreciated that there is more to life than a heaving bosom, however plump and rounded," he said, whilst obviously admiring the view of her cleavage afforded him by her dress.  
  
She smiled, and then continued, "So I pointed out that the reason I had never gone out with anyone at Hogwarts is that I wasn't attracted to children, only to real men. Someone, I forget who, mentioned your name as a likely candidate. I think I was supposed to faint with horror, so I merely pointed out that you were certainly more attractive than any of them."  
  
"To the sound of fairly universal dismay I would imagine," he smiled faintly.  
  
"Once they realised that I was serious, yes." Ron in particular had been vehement in his denunciations of Snape as a Greasy Git. She had pointed out that it would be a simple matter to get Severus a bottle of shampoo, but that nothing on God's earth would ever make Ron less of prat.  
  
He hadn't liked that at all, and had said that if she was so damned clever she should be able to get Snape into bed before the end of the term. Before she knew it, she had lost her temper and rather than doing the sensible thing and leaving in dignity she had agreed to take part in the bet.  
  
"I am surprised that having taken the bet you then did nothing about it."  
  
"That," she said, "is a very long story, and I think this dance is about to end."  
  
Would he bite? 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two  
  
Severus escorted her to a table and poured her a drink. Firewhiskey, no less.  
  
She raised the glass to him in mute query.  
  
"You are not a student here anymore, Miss Granger."  
  
"Then, Severus, perhaps you could call me Hermione," she said, feeling greatly daring.  
  
"Hermione, then. You were about to tell me why you did nothing to attract my attention during the course of last week. I must say I was surprised that Lavender and Parvati didn't persuade you to turn up to classes in tight clothing and your robe unbuttoned."  
  
"I do wonder where you get your information from, because of course, that is exactly what they tried to persuade me to do. You were quite right, of course, that telling Ron amounted to telling the whole of Hogwarts. The girls took it as some sort of challenge and decided to help me out."  
  
She sipped at her Firewhiskey and grimaced. It really didn't taste very nice at all.  
  
"Lavender and Parvati turned up first. You should have seen it. They have boxes and boxes of make up, potions, lotions, books on glamours and charms to attract the most resistant wizard. You could barely move in my room for all the clutter they brought with them.  
  
"They spent ages trying to straighten my hair. I told them it was a lost cause, but they were determined to succeed."  
  
Professor Snape inspected her hair with the eye of a professional. "Sanglise's Patented Hair Straightener I presume?"  
  
She nodded. "I will give them credit for that, they did manage to find something that worked. But the rest of it?" She shuddered. "I ended up squashed into a bra that pushed my breasts up so high they could keep my ears warm, a shirt two sizes to small for me which was practically unbuttoned down to the waist, and a skirt so short you couldn't dignify it with the name - it was a belt."  
  
She took another sip of Firewhiskey. The second taste wasn't so bad. Maybe it was growing on her.  
  
It had been a disaster. She had ended up looking like a refugee from Knockturn Alley, and not a particularly attractive one at that. She had turned to the girls and said, "Remind me again, why this is going to work?"  
  
They had thought she was just being shy and had tried to reassure her that she looked good. "Bless you for lying," she said, "But that's not the point anyway. I wouldn't want to get a man on these terms."  
  
They had difficulty in understanding her point at first, until she translated it into terms they could relate to. "Lavender, when you go out to buy a pair of shoes, do you buy the first pair that you see?"  
  
"No," she said, puzzled. "I look at all the shoes in the shop, and then try some and choose which look best."  
  
"Actually," said Parvati dryly, "She tries on all the shoes in the shop, goes to another four shops, and then comes back to the first shop to buy the pair she first tried one." They both giggled.  
  
"Well, that's my point. Don't you think you should spend as much if not more of your time choosing a man than you do on choosing a pair of shoes to match your robes?"  
  
They had both nodded. "So what do you want in a man?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I like blonds," said Lavender.  
  
"Like Malfoy?"  
  
They had wrinkled their noses up at that. "Ew, no, he's an arrogant little tosser. You can't like him, Lavender?" said Parvati  
  
"God, no! Can you imagine having to put up with his obnoxious attitude all the time? It doesn't matter how pretty he is, he's not worth the aggravation," she replied.  
  
"So you're saying personality is important, as well as looks?"  
  
They looked puzzled for a moment, and then more thoughtful. "I suppose so," said Lavender slowly, "I hadn't thought of it like that before. You know how you say someone has a nice personality when what you mean is that they have face like a smacked arse, it tends to skew your thinking on whether you want a nice personality or not."  
  
"And, if you ask me," continued Hermione, "you don't want to be going out with the sort of boy who has just picked up the first available pair of shoes, do you? You want someone who has really thought about what they want and has had the good taste to pick out the best pair of shoes available."  
  
They nodded.  
  
"So, on that basis, do I really want to turn up to Potions looking like a cheap pair of shoes?"  
  
They had reluctantly conceded the point, but looked very disappointed at the thought of not working their magic and transforming Hermione from bookworm to siren in an afternoon.  
  
"On the other hand, I really think I need to look my best for the graduation ball, don't I girls?"  
  
They had brightened at that. The girls had spent the rest of the day trying out different outfits. Hermione usually despised fashion and make-up, but by the end of the afternoon she had felt a reluctant admiration for the sheer attention to detail and effort that the girls had put in. Despite herself she had enjoyed their time together, and regretted a little that she hadn't made more of an effort to get to know the two of them.  
  
The results had been, if not the stunning transformation they had hoped for, a subtle shift into womanhood. Hermione had been very pleased with the results and, in the end, so had Lavender and Parvati. She hoped that Professor Snape had been pleased too; she certainly seemed to have held his attention for the last hour or so, and that was better than she had hoped for.  
  
"So, continue," he said.  
  
"There I was, with a broad expanse of flesh on view, and all I could think about was how cold the potion's classroom was, and how attractive goosebumps are. So I told them that I wasn't going to double potions dressed like a prostitute. I also pointed out that, whilst these tactics worked on 18 year old boys, did they really believe they would work on you?"  
  
"And their answer was?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
"I'm relieved to hear it."  
  
"Not to mention that one of your little Slytherins was bound to have tried it on at least once, if only in the hope of getting better marks in class. I wouldn't want to be unoriginal, you know."  
  
He smiled faintly. Some of his Slytherins had indeed tried that, sometimes for less innocent reasons than improving their marks, and over the years he had developed a whole range of very nasty tactics designed to put them off sex in general and him in particular for a very long time. He had been looking forward to trying them on a Gryffindor.  
  
"What would you have done, if I had tried that?"  
  
"I think I would have admired the view for an entire lesson, thus giving you cause to hope that you were being successful, and then reported you to Porfessor McGonagall for being inappropriately dressed. I am sure her disappointment would have been very hard to bear." He paused.  
  
"Dare I hope that you have been a good influence on Miss Brown and Miss Patil. There dress seems to be a little more restrained than usual?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"And this is of course wholly unrelated to the fact that two of your competitors had selected them as their targets?"  
  
It was actually, but Hermione decided to take the credit anyway. Professor Snape would only admire her cunning.  
  
She smiled mysteriously - she hoped - and murmured, "You may think that, I couldn't possibly comment."  
  
He smiled back. "I believe you had a string of advisors last week. What other help were you offered?" he laid a faint stress on the word help that led her to believe that he held the same views as her on the quality of the advice offered.  
  
"That would probably be Pansy."  
  
"What had Miss Parkinson to say for herself?"  
  
Hermione had not been surprised when Pansy had offered her help in Project Snare Snape as she had called it; she had been shocked. For a Slytherin to be actually talking to a Gryffindor without using the phrase mudblood was surprising in its own right, but to find that the girl actually wanted to help, well, Hermione could be forgiven for wondering what was the catch.  
  
Apparently there wasn't one. Pansy was filled with a desire to help her fellow man. Hermione took that to mean that Slytherin had taken an interest and Draco was probably running a book.  
  
Still, she was prepared to listen to advice no matter from what source it came. Part of being a scholar was being able to assess the weight that should be given to a particular text; she felt sure the same skills would allow her to spot any but the most subtle deception.  
  
That was before she heard the advice that Pansy had to offer.  
  
"Ah," said Severus. "I can guess at her recommendations."  
  
"Can you, indeed?"  
  
"The same technique she has used on Draco to such good effect over the years;Flattery laid on with a trowel. Why didn't you try that technique? I might have enjoyed that."  
  
"Yes, perhaps a little too much?" she replied dryly. "You would see through it, of course. Although I could be merely saying that to flatter you," she paused to allow him to appreciate the delicate irony and the even more delicate compliment. "There is a more serious point of course. I didn't think you would appreciate a doormat; and I wouldn't appreciate being one."  
  
"And you explained all this to Pansy?"  
  
"Yes, I explained it all to Pansy. And loaned her several of my more radical feminist books."  
  
"And does this explain Draco's face being slapped earlier in the evening?"  
  
"I believe it does. Which makes the whole evening worthwhile in itself, don't you think?"  
  
Professor Snape said nothing in reply, but he didn't have to. His smile said it all.  
  
"You have caused a stir this week. No one else seems to have been slapped, so can I assume that was the last of your advisers?"  
  
"Malfoy did offer to sell me a couple of bottles of lust potion to slip into your drink this evening."  
  
"Good god. How insulting."  
  
"I thought so, as if you would be so stupid as to not notice."  
  
"I meant, how insulting that the little ferret thought you couldn't produce a lust potion of your own. Your grades exceeded his by a considerable margine."  
  
Hermione was taken aback. After all this time, Severus Snape had just complimented her work. She didn't think she would have been more shocked if he had wandered up to her and said, "How about it, you and me?"  
  
"Blimey," she said. "You just said something nice to me." 


	3. three

Severus - she could now call him Severus to his face and not merely to herself- looked a little shifty for a moment, but then conceded the point. "I wonder if someone slipped something into my drink earlier."  
  
She smiled, adding with a little acid in her voice. "Of course, that is something that you would have to get used to: compliments without the aid of potions."  
  
He assumed an air of thoughtfulness. "I suppose I could make the sacrifice, provided that there would be some sort of quid pro quo."  
  
Hermione stiffened. She hoped he wasn't suggesting anything obviously crude. He noticed her uneasiness, and added softly. "I just meant that you should feel free to pay me compliments in return."  
  
She tentatively covered his hand with hers, and simply said, "Sorry." His faint look of surprise became more pronounced when she added warmly, "And of course I would pay you compliments. That goes without saying."  
  
Awkwardly he changed the subject. "So who else volunteered to help you?"  
  
"Harry and Ron were full of advice." She smiled fondly at the memory. "Harry offered what should be the best advice of all - just to be myself. Which, whilst it is true, is about the most useless thing anyone can ever say. I mean what bloody help is that - just be yourself? If that was all that it took, you would have been falling over yourself to ask me out already, and the bet wouldn't even be necessary. At least Lavender and Parvarti had something constructive to say, even Draco was more useful."  
  
Severus snorted. He was obviously happy to hear something to Harry's disadvantage. "And young Mr Weasley?"  
  
"He actually made the most sense."  
  
She didn't think that Severus needed to know that Ron's reaction had been one of complete horror. "What the hell do you think you are playing at, chasing that Greasy Git? For god's sake, Hermione, don't do anything so thick. He'll make your life a living hell, and you'll probably be mentally scarred for life. It really isn't worth it, just to win some stupid bet."  
  
Hermione continued, "He pointed out that the bet was a silly idea. And I thought, he's right. What did I really want? To win the bet or to actually persuade you that I was worth taking seriously? Ron thought that you would know about the silly bet one way or another. And I thought that if you did, it didn't take a genius to work out that you would be insulted if you thought that was the reason behind me asking you to dance. Not to mention the fact that you would be very likely to demonstrate just how unhappy you were with the situation in the most humiliating manner possible. And quite right too; if someone did it to me, I would be livid."  
  
The smile on Severus's face was neither pretty nor pleasant. "Oh, yes," he said. "You would have regretted it for a very long time."  
  
Hermione felt her insides lurch oddly. She found that feral smile to be very sexy, although she was obviously pleased that it wasn't directed at her personally at the moment.  
  
Something of her glazed-eyed contemplation registered with Severus. A faint flush mounted his cheeks - whether embarrassment or something else, she couldn't tell - and his hand moved restlessly beneath hers.  
  
"Miss Granger," he said. "I am not a very nice man. You would do better with someone of your own age and probably your own house."  
  
"Not according to Pansy," she said cheerfully. "She says, and I think we can take her word for it, that Gryffindor men, boys, call them what you will, are universally dreadful in bed. I would like to have an orgasm sometime before I'm forty you know, preferably more than once. Perhaps even two in the same night?"  
  
He snorted.  
  
"Can you imagine," she continued blithely, "the sheer hell of trying to explain to one of them that, yes, the woman is supposed to enjoy sex as well; and no, just because they can wank for fifteen minutes doesn't mean that they are the last of the red hot lovers; and no, they aren't getting a blow job on the basis that they will last longer the second time, because quite frankly even if they managed to double ten seconds their performance is clearly still going to be inadequate."  
  
Severus was by now openly laughing, a sight guaranteed to strike terror into the heart of any Hufflepuff and most of Gryffiindor.  
  
"Frankly I don't have the time or patience to train one of them up. I need some time to get on with my reading you know."  
  
"You seem to be setting very high standards," he said, "are you sure I would be able to live up to them."  
  
"Well maybe not the first time, because they're usually dreadfully, but after that? Oh, yes," she breathed, "absolutely certain."  
  
He smirked and patted her hand. "Have you considered that this might be some passing phase? A teenage crush? Like Professor Lockhart, for instance."  
  
She looked daggers at him. "Well, judging from the behaviour of Lavender and Parvarti. " at his quizzical glance she conceded the point, "All right, and me - when I was 12, for heaven's sake - if I was in the grips of a crush I would believe you to be wonderfully handsome and the paragon of all virtues. I hardly think you are a knight in shining armour, and I am sure I would have noticed if you had a white horse tethered outside."  
  
His face had darkened once the word handsome passed her lips, so she tightened her grip on his hands, and continued, "You aren't tall, dark and handsome, but I'm no raving beauty either. I think it's better to be tall, dark and interesting. You say you aren't a nice man; I agree, in many ways you're not. You have an evil temper and a tendency to bully people. If you haven't managed to bully me in seven years, when you were in a position of authority over me, how much less likely is it that you'll manage it now. Believe me, the first time you snap at me, and we both know that there will be a first time, I will snap back."  
  
"Why on earth would you want to take up with me if I am so bad-tempered?" he sneered.  
  
"Precisely because you are so bad tempered. I've got a temper of my own you know, just ask Malfoy, he has the scars to prove it. I want someone who isn't frightened of me, who will stand up to me and refuse to be bullied. I have nightmares where I wake up in ten years time, married to Ron, and still having to do all his thinking for him. I don't want to turn into Molly Weasley and have some shambling idiot of a husband who says nothing but yes dear. I would rather be having spirited discussions on the meaning of life, the contents of Ars Alchemica and precisely whose bloody fault it is that some domestic disaster has happened. Obviously it would be your fault, but I expect you would be stubborn and refuse to admit it."  
  
"The Gryffindor boys frightened of you, are they?"  
  
"Terrified, mostly, unless they want me to do their homework for them; then they manage to overcome their shyness quite nicely."  
  
He looked puzzled. "But surely you enjoyed helping your fellow Gryffindors; you certainly seemed to spend a lot of time helping Longbottom. Didn't Minerva say something about you wanting to be a teacher?"  
  
"Bloody typical!" Hermione wasn't pleased. "Harry got fifteen minutes worth of career advice, and Professor McGonagall practically offering to start a war to get him to be an Auror. I barely got five minutes, and she told me that if I was a very good girl and did as I was told I could be a teacher. I would rather poke my eyes out with a blunt wand than be a teacher," she stopped suddenly, realising just how much she was insulting Severus, and added wryly, "No offence."  
  
"None taken. I feel like that myself most days."  
  
"I'm not surprised. Teaching Neville must have been a strain."  
  
"You ought to know, you spent most of your potions lessons teaching him, despite my express instructions."  
  
"Self defence," she said darkly. "That, and of course, good old Hermione could be relied upon to help out anyone who needed it. I mean, you think you had problems. I had to sit next to him every bloody lesson. I never had time to be frightened of you, you know, I was too busy worrying what Neville was going to do next. Now he really was scary. The number of times I had to stop him blowing us all up! Neville is a sweet boy, but he should never been allowed to take potions at NEWT level."  
  
"I agree. I told Dumbledore he was a danger over and over again, but all he did was twinkle at me and then ordered me to take him anyway."  
  
"Bastard," she said.  
  
"Not a member of the Dumbledore Appreciation Society?" he said in mock- surprise. "I thought membership was compulsory for Gryffindors?"  
  
"You'd be surprised. Harry and Ron aren't entirely thick, you know, and it doesn't take a genius to start wondering precisely why the only wizard Voldemort is allegedly afraid of is tucked away safely whilst an eleven year old boy faces Quirrell on his own."  
  
Severus said nothing, but his glance was eloquent. Silence descended for while, not precisely awkward, but she was aware that his decision could go either way. She hoped that she had done enough to shake him out of his preconceptions about Gryffindors in general, and her in particular.  
  
"Hermione," he said, "would you like to meet for lunch at some point in the summer holidays?"  
  
She resisted the urge to squeal with excitement - grown up, she thought, I must remember to be grown up - and simply replied, "That would be very pleasant, Severus. Perhaps you could owl me with a date?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"There's just one other thing, Severus. A favour, I'd like to ask."  
  
The next day the students milled around aimlessly, reluctant to board the train that would take them away from Hogwarts to begin their lives as adults. Hermione hadn't seen the boys on her way to bed the night before, and they had been so busy packing and saying their farewells this morning that she hadn't had the chance to tell them that she had - to put it bluntly - pulled last night. And she wasn't sure that she would have told them, even if she had had the chance. This was going to be fun.  
  
They were about to find out the hard way.  
  
Harry and Ron were astounded to see the tall, thin figure of Professor Snape making his way across the platform. The crowds of departing pupils parted before him, the habit of terror he had implanted in them still holding good despite their emancipation.  
  
They were even more astounded when Hermione moved towards him. Although their conversation couldn't be heard over the chatter, the nature of their discussion was clear when he bent and kissed her hand.  
  
Draco watched in open-mouthed horror as Professor Snape escorted Hermione across a suddenly silent platform to settle her in her compartment. Severus didn't stay to watch the train depart - when she had asked him to come down and see her off in the morning he had put his foot down on that point, determined not to look like a lovelorn fool. He had been surprisingly easy to persuade though, and she rather thought he was enjoying the stir he was causing. Severus, she filed away for future reference, is a bit of a drama queen. Although, to be fair, anyone could have worked that out from the way he flounced into potion's classes.  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other in astonishment, and then bolted into the train, eager to hear quite how she had managed to pull that off. She refused to answer any of their questions and sat calmly reading the paper, resolutely ignoring them with a faint smile playing across her lips.  
  
Shortly after the train pulled out of the station, Draco put his head round the compartment door. "I don't know how you did it, Granger, but you did it. I should have known you had something up your sleeve when you made that side-bet. Here," and he thrust a bag of galleons at her with very bad grace.  
  
"How much did you win, Hermione," asked Ron in amazement.  
  
"500 galleons."  
  
"Wow," said Ron.  
  
Draco winced at the mention of the money. "Come on, Granger, give. How did you manage to get Snape down here this morning? Did you use your womanly charms?"  
  
"It's simple, Draco. I just told him about the bet, and pointed out that 500 galleons would buy a very extravagant lunch. Congratulations, Draco - you just paid for our first date! Honesty is the best policy, you know."  
  
He just shook his head. "You and Snape against the world. God help the world!" 


	4. The first date

The first date  
  
Hermione hadn't been surprised when no Owl arrived from Severus during her first week at home, but neither was she worried. He was no doubt calculating to the nearest minute the precise moment when anticipation would turn to worry, and would arrange for the Owl to arrive at some point in the next twelve hours. Of course, the timing would also tell her exactly how certain he was of her feelings, and how certain he thought she was of him.  
  
She was now engaged in a cat and mouse game with the Head of Slytherin, and she was in two minds as to whether she should let him think he was winning, or point out that she had seen through his little games. The first would probably be the quicker route to bed, but only the second would win his heart. Though he would sneer at the idea that he had a heart at all, let alone one that could be won by a Gryffindor.  
  
The Owl arrived on the Tuesday in the second week of her holidays, which was a little sooner than she expected. He had invited her for lunch on the Wednesday, and for a few minutes she was strongly tempted to send a reply saying she was busy. Twenty-four hours notice was taking a little too much for granted. However, that was a point that was better made in person.  
  
So she had accepted, with a very pointed comment to the effect that it was fortunate he had suggested Wednesday as it was the only day she was free this week. Which she thought should translate into Slytherin as, 'I'm still interested, but don't push your luck.'  
  
He had arranged lunch at an expensive restaurant obviously intending to spend all of the Malfoy winnings at one sitting. However, he was waiting to greet her, which was probably Slytherin for, "Who me, take advantage? You must be thinking of someone else."  
  
It amused her, his obviously assumed air of innocence so unsuited to him. So she smiled at him a little too fondly than was perhaps wise, but was rewarded with a faint smile in return. "I'm glad you could make it, Hermione," he said. "I'm sorry it was at such short notice, but I'm afraid Dumbledore has kept me very busy."  
  
"That's all right, Severus. I didn't have anything on this week."  
  
The waiter was placing a napkin across her lap and handing them the menu, when he asked casually, "I thought you said you were busy all this week, apart from today."  
  
"I lied, Severus. I lied."  
  
The waiter took their orders, after a suitably respectful interval, to leave them sitting opposite each other slightly at a loss for conversation. He seemed to have something on his mind though, and he was looking at her with the kind of intense consideration he only levelled at her when he thought that she and the boys had been up to something.  
  
"I know that you are only a Gryfindor, Hermione, and therefore don't appreciate the finer points about lying, but you aren't supposed to admit that you've been dishonest unless you have been caught out and there are at least three witnesses to prove it."  
  
"That depends on why you're lying."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"I know."  
  
He thought about that for a moment; she wasn't sure whether he filed it away for future consideration or took the point straight away - he couldn't be allowed to think that she was going to be in any way simple or predictable. The most amusing aspect of it all was that telling the truth seemed to be the best way of confusing him; he was clearly unused to it and had yet to work out a strategy to deal with it.  
  
It was only a matter of time until he did, but until then he was mildly off- balance, and, what was more important, definitely thinking about her. She wasn't going to fit into any convenient boxes so that he could put her away when he had finished playing with her, and if he asked her what she was up to, she could tell him and she would still be able to confuse him.  
  
So she smiled widely and raised her glass of champagne in a toast. "To Draco!"  
  
"To Draco!" he echoed.  
  
There was a small pause whilst the waiter brought them the first course. Hermione had chosen potage bonne femme or potato soup as her mother would have called it. Not that potato soup would have done justice to the creamy, delicately flavoured starter. Severus had chosen fish of some sort, covered in a hollandaise sauce.  
  
The first few mouthfuls, eaten in silence, gave them both time to think of something to say. Hermione, of course, was the first to speak. "So, Severus, what will you do with your time, now that you don't have classes to teach?"  
  
"I don't get much of a holiday," he said, "contrary to popular misconception. What with stocking up the ingredients for next year, doing an inventory to see whether anything has gone missing." here he gave her a very pointed look ". and running Albus's errands for him, there's barely a moment to myself."  
  
"What do the other teacher's do?"  
  
"Minerva goes off to see her sister, I think. I suppose most of the other teachers do the same. Usually it's just me left to nursemaid Albus."  
  
"But you don't have to," she said.  
  
"No," he said slowly. "I suppose I don't anymore. Before, I was expected by Voldemort to stay at Hogwarts to keep an eye on Albus, and I suppose I just keep on doing it out of habit."  
  
"But you could take a day off, if you wanted?"  
  
"Why, what did you have in mind?"  
  
Typical Slytherin; he wanted to know what he might be letting himself in for before he agreed to anything.  
  
"My parents have a seaside cottage, up on the Norfolk Coast. We could go there for the day, perhaps have lunch, a walk along the beach; no coffee, though."  
  
"I hardly see myself as the sort of person to hold hands in public or go paddling, Hermione," he said softly. "What do you mean, no coffee?"  
  
Hermion blushed faintly. "Believe me, Severus, if you tried paddling in the North Sea you would lose your toes, even in this weather. But there are some nice views from the cottage, and it's quiet." He was still looking at her, clearly determined to find out what she meant by coffee. "If a muggle asks someone back for coffee, it generally means an invitation to something else."  
  
Oddly enough, Severus's cheeks looked a little flushed as well.  
  
She added, "I just thought that next time, assuming there is a next time, it might be nice if lunch was conducted away from prying eyes."  
  
"You mean Harry and Ron, who are watching us from the café across the street?"  
  
Hermione nodded. She was impressed, although she supposed that spying tended to make you more observant and slightly suspicious of everyone. Particularly people wearing purple robes that were too large for them, crowned with a large green hat; and that was just Harry. It wasn't the best attempt at a disguise she had ever seen, which made her wonder whether the boys intended to be noticed. And they said girls were difficult to understand!  
  
"I can see your point."  
  
There was a sudden bustle as their first courses were removed and replaced by the main course. Hermione was mildly annoyed with herself for having mentioned coffee. She just hadn't wanted to end up in a situation where she would be badly out of her depth. She wouldn't have minded dipping her toe in the water though, and she couldn't see Severus being the sort of person to snog in public; the cottage had seemed the ideal solution. She sighed, oh well.  
  
Severus looked, uncertain was the only way Hermione could think of to describe it, never mind how unlikely that was. Probably wondering how to turn her down gently.  
  
"I've never been to the seaside," he said. "It might be interesting."  
  
"It's nothing special," she said, "but you could risk me cooking lunch, and then you can sit on the patio and admire the view or, if you are feeling particularly energetic, we could go for a stroll along the cliffs. As I say the views are breathtaking, and it's very peaceful."  
  
"Peaceful might be nice," he said wistfully.  
  
"If you like, you could stay there," she offered. "You know, as a sort of holiday. I could stay there with you, if you liked, at least some of the time. But if you really wanted peace and quiet on your own away from Hogwarts, you could stay there on your own and I could drop in and see you from time to time. If you're not actually at Hogwarts, Dumbledore can't find you things to do. There are plenty of book to keep you amused, if you like muggles."  
  
"And your parents won't mind?" He sounded tempted by the offer.  
  
"I shouldn't think so; we often loan the cottage to friends."  
  
He pushed his steak around the plate absent-mindedly. "And what will you tell them about me?"  
  
"The truth."  
  
He looked up in surprise. "Really? That I used to be your teacher and that you. we."  
  
"That you used to be my teacher, that nothing untoward happened whilst you were my teacher, and that I'd like to get to know you better."  
  
"Won't they suspect rampant . er . coffee drinking?" That was definitely a blush.  
  
"They may; I certainly won't pretend that coffee drinking isn't the long term aim. There's no point trying to pretend otherwise."  
  
"And they won't mind?"  
  
"Not really, no." Her mother would no doubt lecture on the necessity of using contraception, and suggest that she ought to take things slowly until she was certain about her own feelings, but, fundamentally, she trusted her daughter to make the right decisions. She would also be there to pick up the pieces if it all went disastrously wrong, and probably hunt Severus down and slap his face for being an unfeeling brute if she thought it necessary.  
  
Hermione definitely had her mother's temperament; something she thought should be kept from Severus for as long as possible. She had the feeling that he would run for the hills if he realised that there were two of them in the same family, and that as Hermione got older she would only get more determined.  
  
Ron's admiration had certainly faded once he had met her mother. "Blimey," he had said, "she's even bossier than Mum." If she had known that is what it took to deter him, she would have introduced them earlier. However, she wasn't prepared to take a chance with Severus. Lull him into a false sense of security, that was the way; then, when he was hooked, the introduction to parents could be made.  
  
"Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling me everything?" he asked wryly.  
  
"Because I'm not?" she offered.  
  
"That might be it." He paid careful attention to his meal for a few minutes, and then ventured, "How long is long term?"  
  
Hermione was at a loss to understand the question for a few seconds until her brain suddenly kicked into life. Long term aim - coffee drinking. Oh.  
  
"I don't know," she said in exasperation. "Contrary to popular opinion, I don't plan everything. I haven't got a timetable worked out: there isn't an entry in my diary going 14th to the 2st1 August - shag Severus senseless, four times a night."  
  
"Pity." The look in his eyes made breathing a little difficult, and she suddenly felt very warm.  
  
Mercifully, the waiters took the pause in the conversation as a signal to clear the table, and the next few minutes were spent ordering desert.  
  
"I only ask," he said, "because I'm not very experienced at this courting business. I don't know what you expect to happen."  
  
"I'm not very experienced at being courted, and I have absolutely no idea what will happen next. We just make it up as we go along."  
  
Desert was insinuated before them. Hermione quickly finished her pear tart; there wasn't a lot of it, more like pear sliver. Severus caught Hermione eyeing his chocolate soufflé with longing, and offered her some. She looked at him quizzically as she reached forward to allow him to slide the spoon between her lips. "Just how it should be," he smirked. "I already have you eating out of my hand."  
  
She ran her tongue round her lips, careful not to allow any soufflé to escape. Severus was watching in fascination. "You were saying?" she said, softly.  
  
When he smiled, she felt an odd sort of triumph. She had made him smile, which was an achievement in itself. She seemed to be managing this flirting business reasonably well, and he seemed to be at least as uncertain as her as to what on earth they should be doing; it was rather a relief not to be confronted with a smooth Slytherin Sex God who was in control of everything.  
  
Her mind turned to coffee drinking, and what he would be like in bed: tentative and uncertain, or . she was busy considering the possibilities so when Severus asked if he could tempt her to a coffee, her mind was definitely reposing in the gutter when she replied breathily, "Yes please."  
  
From the smile on his face, she didn't think he was convinced by her attempt to cover up where her mind had been by blurting out, "Espresso, please."  
  
He didn't seem to mind very much though, so she just shrugged and smiled back.  
  
Coffee and lunch were over too quickly for her taste; she had only just begun to get a glimpse of what Severus, as opposed to Professor Snape, was like. He offered her an arm as he escorted her from the restaurant to the apparition point. There was something to be said for old-fashioned courtesy.  
  
She was vaguely aware of their escort trailing them, but was too busy concentrating on the feel of the muscle in his arms, and the soft wool of his jacket, to give a damn. She was in a little blissful world of her own, and she wasn't going to let the boys spoil it for her.  
  
Severus turned to her to say his farewells. He cast an eye behind them, and said softly, "I think they deserve something for their efforts, don't you?" With that, Severus-I-would-never-hold-hands-in-public-Snape, kissed her. He was tall; it was awkward, and her neck ached. It was also bloody fabulous.  
  
She couldn't think of anything to say when he raised his head. He took one look at her wide-eyed expression and chuckled. "Perhaps the cottage isn't such a bad idea, after all." She just nodded fervently, and then he apparated away. She stood there, slightly dazed, with her hand pressed to her lips for a few moments until reality came crashing back in.  
  
She turned sharply, fixed Ron and Harry with a glare, and stalked towards them. "I want a word with you two," she said firmly, and, grasping them by the ears she pulled them after her.  
  
"I told you she wouldn't like it," Harry said to Ron.  
  
"Oh, I did. I liked it very much." 


	5. the second date

Negotiations about their next date were made by owl; Hermione felt more comfortable discussing the matter by post, and she had the impression that Severus did too.

He had initially written to her to thank her for a pleasant lunch, and to suggest that she might like to do it again sometime. She had replied with her acceptance, and a description of the earwigging she had given the boys. She had reiterated her offer of the cottage, and assured him that her parents were agreeable, perhaps he would like to have lunch there?

He would be happy to have lunch there.

Perhaps next week?

Indeed. The Wednesday?

Wednesday would be acceptable. Shall we say noon?

The date, time and place were all set. Hermione had arranged for the cottage to be put on the floo network, and had arrived early that morning to set dinner in motion. A simple casserole was sitting in the Aga, being slowly warmed through, and an apple pie was resting on the side, ready to be slipped in the oven once the casserole was ready. The food was simple, and couldn't be ruined by over-cooking, which was always a worry with the temperamental Aga. More importantly it didn't require constant supervision, so she could spend her time talking to Severus, rather than stirring complex sauces.

She hadn't gone for fine linen, candles and flowers on the table. She didn't think Severus was that kind of a man, and she thought it would be too much for lunch anyway. A simple tablecloth, the usual crockery, and a bunch of flowers placed in a vase on the sideboard made for a welcoming, if not precisely romantic, atmosphere.

He was prompt. He arrived in a flurry of robes, and spent an inordinate amount of time brushing imaginary soot from his clothes, a process she watched with mild amusement.

He smiled at her, a little shyly; she decided to take the initiative and, standing on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek. She was rewarded with a quick squeeze of her hand, before he pulled back, nose twitching. "Something smells nice," he said.

"Just a bit of beef casserole, and apple pie for afters, nothing much," she replied.

"Ah, so you're not trying to impress me with your wifely skills." His eyes widened in horror at what he had said. He didn't know what was worse, bringing marriage into the equation at such an early stage, or insulting her cooking.

Fortunately she just grinned and said, "I'd better come clean then, my mother made them both; I wouldn't want a proposal under false pretences."

"If they're really good, I might consider proposing to your mother then."

"I think my father might object."

"A mere matter of detail," he said with a studied air of indifference. "It's simply a question of choosing the right poison."

It may be unorthodox to threaten to kill your girlfriend's father so you could marry your mother, but Severus was pleased to see that Hermione appreciated his sense of humour. Too often his sallies were greeted with blank incomprehension or the suggestion that he was being nasty.

He accepted the glass of wine he was offered, and sniffed at it gingerly. He was pleasantly surprised; it was rich, and heavy, perfectly suited to the beef. "Your mother again?" he asked.

"My father chose it; does it warrant a reprieve?"

"I'll reserve judgement until I've tried the casserole."

"I'd better check on it," she said, opening the door to the Aga. The casserole was clearly ready; it was bubbling away nicely. She cast a quick charm on the over gloves - no need to burn her fingers - and eased the dish out of the oven, slipping the pie in to take its place.

I hope you're hungry. Mum seems to have cooked enough for eight."

He suddenly realised that he was indeed very hungry, and he was aware that Hermione was assessing him in the manner of a farmer checking whether the pig was ready for the kill. She added another hefty spoonful to his bowl.

She put the bowl in front of him, topped up his wine glass, and then sat down at the pine table.

"You look tired," she said, "and you don't look like you've been eating properly. You need to take care of yourself better."

"Isn't it a little early in the relationship to be telling me that I need to be taking care of myself," he asked wryly. The casserole was very good indeed; he was trying to eat as much of it as quickly possible without obviously bolting his food. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this hungry or eaten this well. Perhaps she was right and he needed to spend more time away from Hogwarts, maybe have a holiday.

"Not when you so obviously aren't looking after yourself. Anyway, you should look on it as enlightened self-interest. I have plans for you and you need to be fit for them."

"Indeed."

"Haven't you heard the expression that there's no such thing as a free lunch?"

He looked puzzled; obviously a Muggle expression that hadn't crossed the cultural borders yet then. "What .... plans .... did you have in mind for me then," he asked, investing a wealth of meaning into the question. Whatever her answer, he was fairly certain that it wouldn't involve 'coffee'.

"You'll only find out if you eat all your lunch up, like a good boy." Her tone was just as suggestive as his had been.

Like the good boy he was, he wiped his bowl clean and then accepted the offered second helping. "Are you always this bossy?" he said.

"Oh yes, just ask the boys."

Ah yes, the boys. "Did you find out what they thought they were playing at, following you around like that? I've never seen such a pair of poor disguises."

She looked amused, her eyes dancing with enjoyment. "They weren't disguises; they wanted to be noticed. It was apparently in the nature of a warning to you: treat Hermione right or else."

He snorted at that, as if there was anything that they could do that Hermione wasn't perfectly capable of doing herself, up to and including hexing him into the middle of next week.

"I know they're annoying, but they do mean well."

"And you think that makes a difference?"

"Of course it does," she said simply.

He thought about it whilst Hermione bustled around clearing the table and serving the apple pie. Slytherins tended to focus on ends and not means. He supposed there was something to be said for good intentions; he just didn't think that he knew enough people who had good intentions to be able to tell. Which was, on reflection, something of a sad thing to say about his life.

He sighed. He supposed that this meant that he would have to be more tolerant of the boys in future. No one could deny that the pair of them was annoying, but they had stuck by each other for seven years of danger and aggravation.

He dismissed them from his mind. There was apple pie in front of him, and it was covered in custard, and he was seriously contemplating murder.

He watched Hermione eat her dessert. She was attacking the whole thing with an immense gusto that he found intensely attractive. She was enthusiastic in everything she did, and wasn't that an interesting thought for the future - hopefully the not-too-distant future either. His gaze flicked to the sofa and did a quick calculation of how long it would take to finish a second slice of apple pie - no point turning down seconds - and have a quick cup of tea - no need for unnecessary delay - and then begin the delicate manoeuvres necessary to establish that there had been quite enough talking.

Ten minutes, fifteen minutes tops.

He was right about the timing, but wrong about their ultimate destination. She suggested taking their tea out into the garden, and his curiosity led him outside. The garden was small, with the typical lawn and deep herbaceous borders full of roses and foxgloves and little blue flowers he didn't recognise. It was very pretty, but the truly amazing thing about it was the view.

Over a low stone wall could be seen an immense mass of blue-green water, held in the curve of a shingle beach. Hermione directed him to a bizarre contraption - some sort of sofa, held on ropes attached to a steel frame, with a large awning over the top. He sat on it gingerly, and was startled to feel it move.

Hermione sat next to him, and started the structure swinging in a steady motion. After a while he found it oddly soothing. The swing, the pleasantly weight of a meal in his stomach, the dancing of the light on the sea, the faint whisper of the breeze all conspired against him, and he found his eyelids drooping. He was dimly aware that his cup had been removed from his slack fingers, and then he was asleep.

He was mortified when he woke much, much later. He squinted at the sun, now painting pretty patterns on the sky, and realised it must be getting on for dinner time. He'd spent the whole afternoon fast asleep; he was relieved to find he hadn't dribbled.

Hermione was sitting on the ground a few feet away, a large pad of paper in her lap, a pencil in her hand, and a frown of concentration on her face. He was faintly surprised to see that she was sketching; he would have expected her to be reading.

He felt reluctant to disturb her, and contented himself on simply watching the play of light on her face in a way he had not been free to do when he was her teacher. He had been furious when he had heard of the bet, and yet he had found himself watching her across the hall at meals, wondering what it would be like to kiss her. She had surprised him with the way she had played her hand; she continued to surprise him, and probably would always surprise him. There was nothing obvious about Miss Granger.

Unlike him; he realised with a guilty start that not only was Hermione aware that he was awake, but she had been watching him for some time. He hadn't noticed because his eyes had slipped from her face and had been admiring other attributes entirely.

He was a dirty old man, staring at a young woman's breasts like that, and yet, she didn't seem to mind. Her glance wasn't reproachful but inviting; he shoved that faint twinge of conscience to one side. After all, she was his girlfriend, admittedly only of two dates standing, and he was allowed to look if he wanted to.

And allowed to do more apparently, because she said in very husky voice, "And are you just going to look, or are you going to come over here and touch as well?"

Not the kind of invitation that had to be issued twice, certainly not to him, and probably not to any man.

Three steps, and he dropped to his knees by her side. He traced a finger down the line of her neck, and dipped slightly under the collar of her shirt. It was fascinating to watch her intelligence, usually so restless and busy, focussing exclusively on the subtle movement of his fingers. She wasn't passive, but she did allow him to take the lead, waiting to see what he would show her next.

He bent and placed a soft kiss to one side of her mouth, then one to the other side. "Tease," she sighed into his mouth, and then he was pressing her down against the soft grass.

He continued with the gentle kisses, mindful of her lack of experience, not wanting to take anything for granted or move too fast. Eventually, frustrated by his tentative approach Hermione took the lead, as he suspected she would, and her tongue was doing some teasing of her own.

Such flagrant incitement deserved only one response. A hand insinuated itself under her shirt and cupped a breast. She gave a surprised squeak when he cast a charm that simply dissolved her bra, no clumsy fumbling for him thank you very much; there were definite advantages to being a wizard.

Then Hermione was making squeaking noises of an entirely different kind. He wondered what sort of noises she would make if it were his mouth and not his hand; no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his hands were busy with her buttons.

It was the work of seconds, and then slowly to draw out the moment, he was pushing her shirt to one side.

She wasn't shy at all, merely curious about what the next step would be, and what it would feel like. She liked it when he kissed the curve of her breast; she liked it when he took her nipple in his mouth; she liked it when he used his teeth to nip at it; she liked it when he soothed that sting; and then his hand was between her legs, almost without conscious thought, and he realised they had reached the point of no return rather quicker than he had expected.

And they had to turn back.

Reluctantly he moved his hand back to her waist, and his mouth to just by her ear. "We have to stop," he said raggedly.

She gave a large, shuddering sigh and then simply nodded.

"Tea?" she said, still a little out of breath.

"Yes, I think tea would be a good idea." The English panacea, whether for shock, death, doom, gloom, broken hearts, even abruptly terminated passion, anything up to and including the end of the world, and it was true that his mouth was dry.

She buttoned up her shirt, fumbling a bit, and then headed back into the cottage.

Severus sat in the garden for a moment before following her. A holiday was looking like an increasingly pleasant idea.

A/N The recent crackdown on ratings on ffnet has made me delete the next chapter in which Hermione and Severus finally get it together. Sorry and all that. The full version can be found on Ashwinder or Affnet. Links are provided in my profile, but you must promise not to nip off and read them unless you are old enough to do so.


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